A Visit to Mrs Lovett
by Nellie Putnam
Summary: Sweeney Todd. LONG oneshot. Deep analisys into Mrs. Lovett's character. Todd and Toby are featured. Please, oh please R&R! Comeplete, but there's ALWAYS room for construction.


**A VISIT TO MRS. LOVETT**

Nellie Lovett rubbed the corner of her eyes, marred with little crow's feet lazily. The early-afternoon lull had finally come, for just about everyone with money had gone off to work now.

From somewhere across the room a glass tittered on the edge of the table, and a series of thumps and crashes followed—but the glass did not break. "Good boy, Toby." She called with a sigh. Always clumsy, but always dependable.

"Th-th-thank-you, Mum." He whispered, his young voice raising several pitches higher in delight.

Nellie began to undo the strings of her apron as she moved to one of the tables to take a seat. Benjamin—for that is always how she thought of him—was busy caring for his razors: polishing, sharpening, etc. He always made sure to take special care of those razors.

"But Lord knows I need some special care myself too..." She muttered, almost sing-song.

Nellie climbed the stairs that let to his part of the building, the stairs creaking, and her puffing with every step. She had reached the door when from downstairs the bell rang as someone entered.

Sweeney Todd looked up from his work to see pungent form of Mrs. Lovett. Her face had sunken with the sounding of **her **bell and her eyes peered longingly at him. He flinched and grumbled, putting down his razor and approaching the door. It squealed on its hinges as he slowly thrust it open. "I believe you have a customer, Mrs. Lovett."

Her eyes dimmed. "But—"

"Just go and see what he wants!" Todd snapped.

Nellie clutched her skirts—his angry tones and bursts never ceased to frighten her. It was too much like Albert, the bastard...

Todd sighed in defeat, the woman was a greater demon than he when frightened. "If need be, send him up here."

He shook his head with satisfaction and disgust as Mrs. Lovett brightened ever so slightly at the sick notion. "But, try and send him off with one of you pies or some ale. Have some bloody conversation, but by God, it's not like I'm sending you Newgate! Just see what he wants!!"

The door had slammed shut by the time he finished his words. Nellie grimaced as the service bell rang repeatedly, "I'm coming!" She shouted, fumbling and puffing back down the stairs. "Now what is it!?" She cried, opening the door and coming onto the serving area.

Before her stood a plump man, plain as the day is long with a dusty cane that had once been fine despite his evident youth. His eyes were glazed and focused strait ahead emptily. Nellie straightened and took a few cautious steps towards him, her old shoes thumping on the wooden floor with each step

The man's face snapped to meet her, he spoke bright, but mechanical, "Who are you? What is your name?"

Nellie was caught of guard. But eased into her cheery demeanor, made both unnerving and charming with he curb-stone English. "Well, hello there to you too dearie! Did you come here for a pie or just bustle about with foolish chatter? I'm Mrs. Lovett. Mrs. Nellie Lovett...maiden name Corey. I own this meat-shop here! The best pies in London they say now, are you sure I can't interest you in a pie?"

"No thank-you ma'm. What may I ask is your ethnic background?"

"Well what a silly question is that!" She exclaimed, putting a hand to her collar-bone, as she was always prone to do. "I'm a Londoner of course! I've been here all my life—or can't you tell? Born and bred here all the same. Same with my parents and my handful of siblings, and our grandparents. You just don't leave London—and it's never a question of wanting neither, dearie, mark my words on that. You just don't leave London. Something in ya keeps on hold. Now, how about some ale, dear?" She tried again, this time physically moving for the pitcher and glasses.

The man gave a sharp nod to her response, but did not seem to hear the offer for ale. "How would you describe yourself physically? Include your height, weight, facial features, hair color, and skin tone. Also be sure to note any outstanding physical trait or condition that makes you unique."

Nellie looked at him hard and set the pitcher down on the counter with a loud thunk. "Now, _really_, do you expect me to believe that you're—"

"Blind?" He asked smoothly. The word lined with showy, razor sharp edges. "I am afraid so, Mrs. Lovett."

Nellie forced out a smile and a laugh, becoming once more, her cheery, chatty self. "Well, that changes everything, now doesn't it, dearie? Well, let's see—the hair. Well it's nothing too awful or nice. Always manages to get bits of flour in it no matter what I do...a nice ginger color. Hasn't grayed yet, goodness me, no! But it has dulled a lot some. But I consider myself lucky that that's all it's done at my age! I put it all up nice and fancy like—see? I like to see how long it takes before strands start flying out of their pins but Mr. Todd fancies it that way sometimes. I don't mind much either. Makes me look a bit more my age, don't you think? And the height. Well it can't be too much, now can it? Look at you, at least half-a head taller than me! Let's see...that'll put me at about Five...Five feet—two inches? Give or take a few. I'd like to fancy give, though it's more than likely take. The weight is rather on the plump side, I'm afraid to say. I don't know how it happens though. I'm working me bones to the core day in and day out—Sundays too, dearie. The Lord may rest, but people still fancy their meat pies all the same. Facial features. Now there's a trickster, I must look in the blasted old mirror at least once to pin up the old locks of hair as I mentioned before, but I honestly don't know much. There's a little mark near the chin on the right. Little birth mark of some sort. I've always had the big, round lips, even when I was a skinny little slip of a thing. Hard to believe, isn't it—can you imagine! 'A woman's mouth.'" As she spoke, her hand once more came to the collar-bone. "That's what my Aunt Nettie used to say about them. It looked rather odd then, but I guess it fits enough now. What do you think? Skin's rather smooth, considering all the work I do around here. I can barely believe it myself. Making, baking, and washing things up afterwards. And I help Mr. Todd with his business too. Strange how women preserve sometimes, isn't it? Now, what is it that I can really do for you dear? No ale or pies...have you come to see Mr. Todd then, upstairs?"

"How would you describe your stance, posture, walk, and movement?"

"I'm sure I don't know dear. I like to keep it cheery around here, as it's dark and nasty outside. Perhaps a brisk movement of sorts. Fanciful...that's what Mr. Lovett used to say. He was a good man...I suppose. I'm also rather practical. You have to be, with times as hard as these, sir. Perhaps that would explain some of the 'stiffness' some of the customers note in my walk. I tell them it's that 'stiffness' that gets them their pies so fast and not a peep comes out about it after that, let me tell you. All the same, I suppose it's whatever you wish. Now, why don't you take off your hat and get cozy...it must be rather uncomfortable standing 'round like that and at your rate, I'll be here till doomsday!"

"Quite. What rhythm or tempo do you associate with yourself? Think of a piece of music that would describe you."

Finally, Nellie was caught up in the conversation and willingly allowed herself to be lead down this strange, verbal path. "I'm not one for music. It makes me think too much of things. But I have this harmonium down here in parlor if you'd like to take a look."

She took his arm and ushered him to the parlor, talking all the way, "I loved and hated this one song that Mother would sing to my sisters. Aunt Nettie played it when she was dreadfully bored at times too. This was _her _harmonium that she gave me as a wedding present. That's why it's so very nice and fine looking after all these years. I always felt complete with this song for some reason. Never really fancied it for singing or showing off and such, but I think it might be the 'rhythm' or 'tempo' you talked to me about with that silly question. Felt complete with it, I did, all the same."

She sat down on the stool, resurrecting a few layers of dust as she did so. Her hands, rough as they were, reflected more closely her real age—a mere 42—and began to stroke the keys and pummel out of them a sweet, ragged ballad. "Sweet Polly Plunkett saw her life pass, flew down the street crying, I am a lass who alas loves a man who alas loves a lass loves a lad who once I had in Canderberry. 'Tis a row-dow, diddle-dow-day. 'Tis a row-do-diddle-dow-dee..." Her voice was clear, and almost—pretty. But as the song drifted along, her fingers began to shake at the personal weight of the words, and, finally, Nellie could bear it no longer.

_**Dump! **_

Went the harmonium lid, as Nellie turned to face her visitor, wringing and fumbling with her hands in frustration. Her voice was choked with the threat of tears, "Now, dear, look at me! Ha...can't even remember how it goes properly. Oh well, I believe your satisfied with what you've got. Now, dear, isn't it time you'd be shoving off or something? It's getting awfully late."

He pretended not to hear, "What gestures, mannerisms, or habits do you use unconsciously?

"I'm sure I don't know, dearie." She said softly, "Now, are you _sure _there isn't somewhere else that you'd rather be? I can't imagine my company's as good as that!"

"How do you dress, Mrs. Lovett?"

Nellie took no precaution in answering, _anything _to get her mind off of that damn harmonium and that damn song. Naturally, she rambled. "Good days or bad days? In the shop or not? Oh, Goodness me, no—I don't mean to say that my wardrobe is that big, but, I can afford a few different aprons for good and bad days, this one's a nice rich navy I bought with last month's savings...imported from down south somewhere. Isn't it beautiful? My dresses are always black with some grey mixed in. Black is cheap and while I'd like to get nicer things to clothe myself, there are things that have to get done around here and money fuels efficiency, dear. But there is just one dress I keep in the closest for something very special. I used to have something like it, but it is something very special. I like to look at it if I ever get a few moments to 'me self and think about when I might just wear it...but I think we've both had our full of this foolish chatter. Go on now, it's still light out. You ought to make it home in time unless you stop for some more chatter with other such ladies. Some of them can certainly talk up a storm! Now why don't you just run along now."

"How do you sound? Describe your voice quality."

She rolled her eyes, actually getting tired of conversation. "You tell me! Sometimes my big, 'woman's mouth' lips will get in the way of some things, but I'm sure I couldn't tell beyond that."

"Think about your background. Where did you grow up? What type of environment shaped your early life? What kind of relationship do you have with your family?"

Caught, Nellie sat herself down in a chair and stiffened. The bustle of London outside called to her, and if she thought hard enough, which she reluctantly did, she could picture her home...if you could call it that—on the other side of town with extreme clarity. _This has gotten out of hand_, she thought. _I think this man needs a shave...but conversation first. I've never been asked like this before..._

"The lower zoo of London is filled with many things, dear." She said abruptly—dryly. "The Corey family is...was one of them. Mother and Father did their best to make meets end—we lived in one of those 'temporary' dwellings you see floating about the not-so-nice parts of town. One brother. Three sisters. Jimmy was the eldest out of all of us. He grew up to be a nice sailor boy...and then they blew up his ship before his twenty-first birthday. Then there was Laura. She was a prick alright. A sweet, sweet, thing deep...deep down, but she never liked any of us. At any rate, Aunt Nettie fixed her up real good with a rich man and she left us for good without even a good-bye after the wedding. Then me. Not much has changed, I'll tell you. Still loud, and a shameless wretched old thing too. Always was. And then Cicely. She never talked much, but she and I were good friends right to the end. Never spoke much, but I did the talking for both of us. She woke me up one night when we were still very little girls and I thought she had a night-mare and offered her a corner on the bed closest to me. But she shook her head no and gave me the sweetest hug in the world she could manage. "I love you, Nellie." She said. I'd never heard her say such a thing before to any one and before I could ask her anything, she was gone. She ran away and she never came back. We found the remains of her in the street several months later. She'd been man-handled and hit by a cab...probably trying to run away. Lilly wasn't too different from Laura, only there was nothing sweet deep-down. She did us all a favor and shipped herself to America. Ungrateful thing. Aunt Nettie was the only one who liked me. And she wasn't even my aunt. She was the woman father COULD have married. I wish he did. She'd take me to Brighton to her lovely little beach-house every so often, and she's the one who taught me how to make meat-pies. Mind you, she never thought it'd be my trade. But I'm grateful to her for it all the same. We were both gingers and Aunt Nettie would always say that red-heads and auburns were special, that if we were good, and did what we ought, we could have any man or thing we wanted. "Gingers have a special power about them, Nellie." She'd say. "'Cos they're all witches! 'Especially you, leftie!" Mother would retort to me when she thought I couldn't hear. Some family, wasn't it, dear? There's no family anymore. Mumsie and Father are six-feet under and Aunt Nettie ran off to some place near Australia with a good man and she died there a long time after. But before she left, she got me in good rights with Albert...that would be the late Mr. Lovett. He was the son of some good friends of hers."

_Not that she knew what he was really like...no, she had no idea at all, the man-whore of a devil._

Nellie seized herself out of her memories. "You know, you shouldn't have said early life, dear. See, because now I get to keep all the things after during and after Mr. Lovett all to me-self."

"Where do you live now?

"I live here, of course, dear! The ovens and such are in the basement, and even with the parlor and serving area for customers, there's a comfortable bathroom and bedroom all for me' self! Mr. Todd lives up-stairs. We share and share alike."

"Think about your intellect. How would you describe your mental capabilities?"

"Nothing special, dear. I'm not daft, if that's what you mean1 I'm pretty good with numbers...especially for a woman. But then, you have to be when you do a business."

"What is you position in society? Are you rich, poor, important, or powerful?"

" I am Mrs. Nellie Lovett, dear. I run this Meat Shop, and I must be friendly enough because in addition to regular customers, many a soul comes to chat, just like you an' me is doing right here. What else can I say? I don't have time to bustling about this 'society' to find out where I stand, but why don't you run along and find out for me. How's about that?" She tried—oh, why wouldn't he leave!?

" What do you enjoy or do for fun?"

"Mr. Todd and I have our own little things. Share and share alike, as I said."

"What phrase or expression do you use frequently?"

"All the same to me, dear. I'm sure I don't know."

"What do other people say about you?"

"Some say I'm a shameless old witch. That boy, over there, cleaning up the tables, he thinks I'm God's personal angel sent down to him. The sweet, loving child he is."

"What are your attitudes towards live and people? What are your values and beliefs?"

Mrs. Lovett didn't like this man. He had no sight and too much power. Somehow, he ployed her to relent easily. _Far _too easily. She sighed darkly. "I value my life, just like anyone should. And I value the life of Mr. Todd. I think people should keep an eye out for theirs...you never know what kind of a sorry state it can be in. I believe in the Almighty God and much as I hate it, he's dealt me a fair hand."

"What is your greatest want or need?"

_You'll make a nice flavor, won't you? _She thought bitterly, giving in, at last, to his prodding, prying, questions and words. _"_ I want to be by the sea, and have a nice husband like Mr. Todd and live there all my days...Brighton isn't really all that far. And Mr. Todd could finally be at rest, and maybe let himself live for a while, perhaps. But more than anything and most importantly, I must say, is that I want Mr. Todd to be _safe _and happy...with me. I want that too. Safe and happy with me. That would be too lovely. I don't even know if I could bear it, that sweet little kind of happiness..."

"What is the problem or obstacle standing in the way of fulfilling your want or need?"

"He won't let me touch him or near him." She sighed.

"It's not literal, of course not literal." The woman muttered with a brief smile and a chuckle. "But He won't let me near him. He needs his lusty little razors and thoughts of his sweet precious Lucy to ever relax most of the time. But I have my moments too. But if I could just get him to forget or burry her inside of his mind, I know I could find him and reach him. He just needs to get over his bloody old dead wife!" She half-screamed, her little hands in fists, like a child who was denied her favorite doll.

"To what extent are you willing to go to eliminate the obstacles to getting what you want or need?" He asked, a sliver of emotion—curiosity?—coming into his voice.

Nellie noticed this as well, and spoke frankly, as if to frighten him. "I value _my _life. And I value _Mr. Todd's _life. I will not do anything that compromises my values to get what I want, but I will compromise anything else that can stand in my way with some little self-manipulation all the same. Now," She said, getting up with a snarl in her voice, "I really must be closing up the shop now."

"Is there a secret that you try to hide?"

"That's too much of a mess to be getting you in, dear." She spoke dryly. This _was _tiring. "Let's not talk about it." She muttered, much more gentle this time, looking out the window to see _that _Beggar Woman chasing after a passer-by, offering him...'favors'. She shook her head in disgust.

_Why, God in Heaven, Why! _

Systematically on cue, he asked, "What is the one thing you wish people understood about you?"

"I don't want to be here! I wish I could run away with Mr. Todd. I wish I had kept him here with me when we first met. I wish I hadn't offered him that ale when I saw him for the first time...I could have taken him with me inside where he couldn't have see the girl, Lucy! I wish they knew that I didn't really think or want to end up being this way. They just happen the way they do because...I'm a foolish old woman, dear, who'll never compromise her thoughts or values."

"What is your greatest fear?"

"That I'll lose Mr. Todd, before I even have him."

"And then, What about yourself are you most proud?"

"The same thing I hate about myself, dear." She said with old bitter sugar in her voice, "Never will I compromise my thoughts or values." Though he could not see, the response was capped with a rare and sincere smile, almost wistful, almost anticipating...

"You must really be tired, dearie." She began, helping him out of his seat, and forcing him towards the stairs nonchalantly. "You know what, why you don't stay here for a while and I'll call a cab to take you to your house. But first—why don't we have my Mr. Todd fix you up all nice and special...perhaps give your family a nice little surprise, eh? Yes, that's right."

She opened the door eagerly, her sweaty fingers nearly slipping off the handle. "Oh, Mr. To-odd!" She called, sing-song.

Mr. Todd's burly, cold footsteps could be heard from above as he came down to meet them. His face was cross and annoyed, but Nellie paid no mind, she even smiled, taunting.

"Mr. T, this chap here needs your—_**services**_." She drew her finger violently across her throat several times,

Todd held up a hand to signal he understood.

"—And I said _you_'d be glad to oblige while I called a _cab _over."

She helped him over to Mr. Todd. "He can't see!" She stage-whispered.

At that, Todd gave the man his arm and lead the man upstairs, never taking his eyes off of Nellie in shock, _You have no shame! _His eyes seemed to say, _A blind man, what did he ever do against a soul?! _

Nellie's eyes dilated and her mouth trembled in response. "Now, off you go, dear." She called shakily. "It was so _very_ nice to talk to you!"

Benjamin shook his head and quickened his pace, reaching the tonsorial parlor in no time, closing the door.

The faint _click _was enough for Nellie, who ran past Toby, the silent, worried observer of her mess, and went outside to view the streets. Everything, nothing, it was all such a great huge mess.

She hung her head and grinned at the sudden _hisss_—and _shriilll— _of the siren.

"Well," she muttered, "another job well done."_hisshiss_


End file.
